Epicenter
by AEM77
Summary: In the beginning...
1. Chapter 1

Against the dark interior of the cabin two bodies enmeshed in one another stand out, shining amber in the light of the fireplace.

"You should get back," he states even as he pulls her closer to him.

"There's time," she says smiling into his neck nestling herself even further in his embrace. "We have time," she says again as she lifts her chin to look into his eyes and meets him in a lazy and sensual kiss.

He pulls away smiling, but his grin quickly dissipates replaced by a furrowed brow. "Your husband will be missing you. I can't ask you to stay here with me, to risk the consequences," he explains starting to disentangle himself from her embrace.

"I love you. I have always loved you," she says pulling him back to her. "I _will_ always love you. Would you give me up so easily just because of what my husband thinks, what this town thinks?"

"Never," it is a promise, an oath. "I would gladly curse this town, myself even, if it meant I could have these moments with you, feeling only you, your skin against my skin."

She shivers against him, "Did you feel that?"

"What? He asks.

"I thought I felt a draft just then," she giggles in reply as he pulls her body across his own and between himself and the fire.

"Better, Prudence my beloved?" he asks tucking her safely under his arm.

"Much, Thaddeus," she replies as she rests her hand above his chest over his heart.

They both fall asleep to the symphony of the crackling fire, oblivious to the urgent angry footsteps coming towards the cabin.


	2. Chapter 2

He is moving as quickly as circumstances will allow in the black of night in an unfamiliar forest. He nearly cries out as a burr catches painfully against his shin but remembers what is at stake and merely gasps in protest.

He is becoming fatigued and frustrated as his journey drags on. He is a man of the sea, not the woods and he imagines the disorientation he is feeling must be akin to that of those he steers into port each season as they gaze upon the foreign landscape. Was that the 3rd or 4th maple he's passed since he'd headed inland?

For a moment he considers turning back, back to the shore, his comfort zone, the warm gaze of Meg the lovely barmaid. But even as he's imaging Meg's face, he remembers another gaze, and the brown eyes start to turn an electric blue and the auburn curls, blonde and he knows he's powerless to do anything but what the indomitable Prudence Driscoll asks of him.

Not for the first time, he curses himself. It is bad enough having fallen under the spell of another man's wife, but one whose heart belonged to another, who was almost a friend, more brother than rival, this is unbearable.

True, chance had tied himself and Thaddeus Hansen together rather than choice. But ties were ties and he'd learned long ago that they were never really severed no matter how hard or continuously you tried to uncouple the damn things.

So here he found himself, fool that he was, frantically scrambling through a foreign and hostile wood looking for the clearing, the directions to which she'd sobbed into his shoulder as she unburdened her fears to him. "Come if you ever hear of trouble in town. We'll be there. We'll be needing you."

If he were honest he was fearful as well. Life was changing in their small coastal settlement and not for the better. Already, Driscoll and his mob had disparaged the reputations of several of the townspeople with accusations of witchcraft and devilry. And it was looking more and more likely he wouldn't be satisfied till there'd be bodies swinging from gallows. While he secretly admired Thaddeus' vocal defense of the accused, Prudence had good reason to fear he'd be the next target of her husband's wrath, even without knowledge of their love affair.

His thoughts are interrupted by a low wail coming from ahead of him in the darkness. Assuming some animal to be near he removes the rifle from his back and readies it in his arms. As he nears he recognizes the sound as human, a realization that causes him little comfort.

And then he sees her in the clearing ahead, her blonde head shining like a halo in the moonlight. She is stooped over a body and he doesn't need to see the gaping hole in the chest or the pale translucent skin to know Thaddeus is dead. He rushes to her side, but stops just short of reaching out to her.

A million questions race through his mind. How? Why? When? But he voices the only one that matters, the only one that he can do something about, "Who did this?"

"Later," she replies looking up at him. And while her eyes remain red-rimmed and teary she's no longer crying. There's no sign of her wailing sob either, her voice hard and terrifying. "Right now," she continues, "we need to fix this."

His heart breaks for her as he finally does what he wanted to do from the start and places his hand gently on her forearm. "He is gone, Prudence. Thaddeus is gone."

She rises ignoring his words. "Can you carry his body?" She asks, her voice soft and gentle again as she looks down at her beloved.

"Prudence," he begins to reason with her again, hoping to gently get through, even as he lifts the body of his friend from her arms.

"No," she says to him firmly stopping his words before he can begin. "I understand what death is, better than most," she adds softly, "but we can fix this, we will fix this," she finishes fiercely.

"Prudence, you know that I would do anything for you," he says quietly looking deeply into her eyes. "If I could take away all your troubles, everything that troubled those you cared about, take it away for good. I would, no matter the cost. I'd _kill_ for you, Prudence. But we cannot fix this. You cannot fix death."

Then she laughs, an eerie tinkling so out of place with her misery of a few moments ago it raises the hairs on his neck. "No. I cannot fix death," she fixes him with a stare equal parts frantic and wicked, "but I know someone who can."


	3. Chapter 3

He senses her even before he hears the footsteps padding across the soft dirt floor. "You should not have come," he says staring deeply into the fire before him. From the sound of it she has not come alone. A great rush of foreboding sweeps over him before, with a sigh of resignation, he turns towards the doorway to find her and a young man standing at the threshold. Her companion is somewhat obscured by an awkward heavy bundle he is carrying but as he shifts his weight the face of Jacob Crocker is exposed. His sense of foreboding increases. No she should not have come.

"I need your help," she says plainly walking in without invitation and standing before him. Despite himself he smiles at her presumption. The smile is short lived however as the meaning behind her words seeps in.

"I cannot help you," he says plainly. He keeps his eyes trained on the fire before him. He does not wish to see the disappointment his pronouncement will cause but he cannot do what she wants of him. There can only be one reason why she has come and it is impossible for him to break the laws of nature again for her. He would have never have attempted it the last time except for the peace it won his people. To meddle again, that would surely disrupt the hard fought truce they were currently living under, not to mention the heavy burden they would all pay to the Creator.

She kneels down now between him and the fire and stares fiercely at him waiting for him to meet her eyes. She is a warrior, this young woman and he allows himself a small smile again as he thinks how ill suited she is to her name.

"Please," she implores in a smaller broken voice as she looks back at her companion, or rather at the bundle in his arms. "You can use me this time. Surely there can be no offense to the Creator when the sacrifice is given up so willingly."

"Wait, what sacrifice?" Jacob asks finally entering the large wigwam and settling his burden down gently to kneel beside Prudence. "You cannot be suggesting," he takes her hands in his own in lieu of giving words to the terrible sacrifice he imagines she is willing to make.

She pats his hands affectionately as she disentangles herself from Jacob's grasp and turns back towards him. "I am suggesting myself," she stresses, "surely you can help now." It is clear to him how little she understands the gravity of her request.

"Prudence," Jacob begins desperately again, but he silences the young man with a gesture and leads them both over to sit around the fire.

"When your husband brought you to me, Prudence, I had no intention of fulfilling his wishes," he begins. " I told him very plainly that the Mi'kmaq cannot take or return life. Animation is a gift from the Creator, one that he bestows and repossesses as he desires. The magic used to restore you was ancient and dangerous; an affront to the Creator and one I would have never performed had not so much been at stake. I still wonder if I haven't made a terrible mistake," he states this last bit to himself shaking his head sadly as he thinks of all the consequences that may be lying in wait for them all.

He pauses a moment to collect his thoughts and take in Jacob's wide eyed stare as he looks at Prudence in astonishment, "You were dead?" He asks incredulously.

But she ignores him as she asks a question of her own. "What do you mean, 'so much at stake'? What did my husband offer you?" And here it is at last, the moment for his own confessional.

"A truce of course! An opportunity to live without fear from the settlement! I am not a fool!" He is aware of how mad he must sound right now as he stretches his body across the fire towards them, "I can feel the winds of fortune and they do not blow in the Mi'kmaq's favor. What would the Creator have me do? Respect the laws and watch my people die, become annihilated by invaders or make one exception, trade one life for another. What is one life when so many are at stake!"

He has had this argument so many times with himself; it feels incredibly cathartic to speak the words out loud at last. He is just beginning to compose himself and continue when they are all diverted by the entrance of another.

"Dear," the voice begins from the shadow of the doorway as a tall elegant woman enters the wigwam, "I had no idea you felt so much responsibility for the matter. Please forgive yourself," she says fondly kissing him on his cheek before turning to address the others. "I am the chief's wife," she smiles at them.

"But, you are…" Jacob begins unsure of how to complete his sentence.

"A white woman, yes I know." She smiles. "And while my dear husband here has been trying to protect me, I'm afraid I am the one responsible for your reanimation my dear," she says smiling down at Prudence.

"Are you a witch?" She asks, her voice barely a whisper for the last word.

"Oh, I suppose so," she says causally, "but you can call me Ann. Ann Teagues."


End file.
